


Passenger

by alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Lemon, M/M, Songfic, Timeline What Timeline, Yaoi, silent soldier angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 23:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14200410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist/pseuds/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist
Summary: by Reverand Maynard--'He's not a soldier.'The realization came to Trowa by instinct. It was not an analyzed thought nor an assumption based on theory or reason. He had just glanced over at his tired comrade and suddenly knew for certain what he'd hoped all along.'He's just a boy . . . like me.'





	Passenger

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).
> 
> note: winner of Third Place in DaMoyre's Silent Passion Contest! (Second Place Reader's Choice.) 
> 
> "Passenger" by Deftones and MJ

'He's not a soldier.'  
  
The realization came to Trowa by instinct. It was not an analyzed thought nor an assumption based on theory or reason. He had just glanced over at his tired comrade and suddenly knew for certain what he'd hoped all along.  
  
'He's just a boy . . . like me.'  
  
The wind, as they flew down a dark highway at somewhere around ninety miles per hour and nowhere near civilization, was cool and harsh as it whipped through Trowa's bangs, stinging his forehead and eyes. Still, he watched the boy on the seat across from him as he too, was assaulted by the flurry.  
  
Heero looked tired, as tired as Trowa knew he should be, as tired as Trowa himself was. His face was tensed, glowing slightly red from the lights in the dash panel, his eyes squinting as if the midday sun were glaring upon them instead of the pale moon, and Trowa couldn't help but notice a certain weariness in all of the boy's mechanical movements, making him wonder if Heero had fallen asleep, and only the shell of his body and that undying determination was left, driving them farther.  
  
Trowa sighed.  
  
"Something wrong?" Heero asked, his voice as lifeless as his expression.  
  
Trowa looked away from where Heero sat, somewhat surprised at the boy's awareness, and turned his face back into the wind. It seemed to blow softer now, Heero must have slowed, and he enjoyed the cleansing feeling it gave him.  
  
" . . .the breath of the night . . ." he murmured.  
  
"Sorry?" Heero asked.  
  
Trowa closed his eyes and laid his head on his arm, letting the air rush over him. He was feeling strangely peaceful.  
  
"The wind is nice, don't you think?" he offered quietly, and Heero heard him even over the roar of the diesel engine.  
  
"Yes," he agreed. "Should I go faster?"  
  
"No . . . probably shouldn't . . . with the gundams and all."  
  
"Mm."  
  
Silence descended again and after long moments of basking in the cool thrum of the air, he turned again to watch Heero.  
  
Heero yawned.  
  
'He's a boy. Not a machine. Not a soldier. Not a measurement of courage and honor.'  
  
Trowa slipped an arm out the window, running it along the cool metal of the truck door, feeling it smooth and cold beneath his fingers.  
  
'He's like me, and Quatre, and Wufei, and . . . even Duo.'  
  
He let the wind catch his hand violently, bending it at the wrist and making his fingers flail and tremble.  
  
'He's like me. And I'm like him.'  
  
He raised his arm a little, meeting even further resistance but not giving in. The wind beat against his hand, advancing like a strong enemy force. It whirled up his arm and into his sleeves, finally breaking against his face and neck. He liked the wind.  
  
'And I like him.'  
  
"Are you sure you're okay?" Heero asked again. Trowa had thought him unaware of his gaze but obviously he had underestimated the other boy.  
  
"Yeah. Just tired," Trowa returned, not averting his eyes.  
  
"Go to sleep then. I'm fine by myself," Heero said, finally turning to look at Trowa, and despite the fatigue that was apparent in Heero's face, Trowa knew it was true. Heero could do anything, alone or not.  
  
"Maybe we should pull over . . . just for a bit," Trowa suggested. "Perhaps you should get some sleep."  
  
Heero looked back at the road, setting his jaw. "I told you, I'm fine."  
  
Trowa didn't relent, the wind made him bold, pushed him farther. "Don't you get tired, Heero?"  
  
"Of course," Heero replied, "I'm human, just like you but . . ."  
  
'Just like me . . .'  
  
" . . . I can't let that stop me."  
  
"Which one Heero?" Trowa asked softly, he'd lain his head back onto his arm again and regarded Heero through fluttering bangs.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Which can't you let stop you? Being tired . . . or being human?"  
  
Heero looked over at Trowa again, his expression inwardly pensive, as if it were the first time he'd considered the question.  
  
"Both," he said finally, breaking his gaze away. And then he did something Trowa hadn't expected. He lifted his foot from the gas and slowly yet firmly, applied the brakes.  
  
It took a full thirty seconds or more to safely slow the vehicle, its hefty cargo quadrupling its inertia, the brakes squealing in protest. But finally, Heero seemed to find a suitable patch of dirt to pull over onto and the cab was suddenly swimming in an intense silence as the engine and lights died, soaking them in the haughty pitch of night.  
  
Trowa immediately mourned the wind, wishing momentarily that he hadn't asked Heero to pull over. Stillness could be so unsettling.  
  
They sat for a moment, the sudden silence cutting into them. Neither moved nor spoke, and the windows began to fog lightly.  
  
"You sleep first," Trowa said finally, managing to get the words out before Heero could use them on him. "I'm not sleepy, just tired. I'll watch the truck."  
  
Trowa heard Heero shift in his seat, the leather material complaining with a creak. He hoped Heero wouldn't argue.  
  
"Fine," Heero relented, taking the order like the obedient soldier he was trained to be. And moments later, Trowa was surprised when Heero's head was suddenly in his lap. There was no permission asked, none given, none needed. Trowa tensed at first but, at length, he dropped a hand Heero's head and stroked the soft hair.  
  
_here I lay, still and breathless_  
  
The moonlight found its way into the cab and Trowa could almost see the soft outline of Heero's face, it's boyish angles softened further in the darkness, making him look even younger than his sixteen years. Yet that tenseness was still there, still determined, still driving.  
  
_just like always_  
  
"Trowa?" Heero's soft voice boomed in the quiet cab.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
There was a long pause before Heero answered, after which, Trowa understood the reason for his hesitance.  
  
"I'm scared."  
  
The strands beneath and between Trowa's fingers were silky and thick and he could feel Heero's unease as the solid body trembled in his lap. "Of what, Heero?"  
  
"I don't know." Heero's voice, his uncharacteristic confusion, was an encompassing discernible force, despite that he spoke hardly above a whisper. "I think it may be -- like you said. That I can't let my humanity stop me. But someday . . . it will."  
  
_still I want some more_  
  
"You're afraid of death?" Trowa asked. "That's understandable, Heero."  
  
"No," Heero said, turning now to lay the back of his head in Trowa's lap, staring into the same darkness but finding it more comforting knowing that Trowa's face, his eyes were there somewhere. His own eyes glimmered wetly in the moonlight. "It's not that, or . . . not entirely."  
  
A tiny breeze picked up outside and scurried through the window. It was cool and caressing and if Trowa closed his eyes he could almost imagine they were driving again.  
  
"I'm afraid that . . . I may become a hero--a martyr, for a species that . . . I'm not even a part of." Heero's voice was impassive, betraying his emotions only through the atypical speech and the gossamer tones. Trowa wondered if it was the sleeplessness or something else making him so reflective.  
  
_mirrors sideways_  
  
'He doesn't know . . .'  
  
"Heero, you can't-"  
  
"No," he interrupted, "I don't know how much humanity is left in me." He seemed desperate now to tell his story and for Trowa to listen.  
  
"You," he continued, "you have the circus and Catherine. Quatre has his family; Wufei, his colony; Duo . . . his memories." A pause. "And what do I have, Trowa? Years of training? The war?"  
  
_who cares what's behind_  
  
"I'm an army ant, Trowa, fighting the good fight to save a race of butterflies."  
  
_just like always_  
  
Heero grew quiet. Trowa, not knowing what to say, continued to pet the silken hair. God, he wished they were still driving.  
  
"I only . . ." He began again, words faltering somewhat, "the only time I feel anymore . . . I only feel right . . . when I'm with you."  
  
_I'm your passenger_  
  
Trowa's hand stopped. He hadn't expected that.  
  
Another breeze found its way into the cabin as Heero began to sit up, reaching a hand behind Trowa's neck, pulling it down even as his lifted, and the cool air brushed his lips a second before Heero's did.  
  
It was so soft, that kiss. As light as the breeze that caressed their cheeks and ruffled their hair. Heero's lips ghosted tenderly over Trowa's, not hesitantly, but without insistence all the same. It was a kiss like the wind, the breath of the night. It pushed him and made him tremble and took his breath all at once. It was human and it was Heero.  
  
They parted.  
  
Heero was leaning on one arm, face inches from Trowa's, his breath tickling Trowa's lips as he spoke.  
  
"Quatre has his family," he said again, voice as soft but with different undertone, "Wufei has his colony, and Duo has his memories . . ." he leaned in even closer, speaking his last words against the other boy's lips, " . . . can I have you?'  
  
Trowa felt his heart lurch in his chest and he thought he might cry. But Heero caught his lips again and was swept away in the other boy's flurry, giving in to its force.  
  
This time the kiss was more urgent and Trowa turned into Heero's warmth, sliding down on the seat even as Heero turned over and got to his knees, allowing the other boy to move beneath him. The noises the seat made, the clanging of the metal on their suits, the deafening roar of their hot and panting breath, it was so loud and surreal.  
  
_chrome buttons, buckles, and leather surfaces_  
  
When they broke again both were breathless and tangled and Heero still wanted an answer.  
  
_these and other lucky witnesses_  
  
"Say I can have you, Trowa," he begged as he kissed the other's mouth and throat, breath hot and sticky, "please . . ."  
  
_now to calm me_  
  
Trowa caught Heero's face in his hands, pulling it to meet an invisible gaze. He smiled. "You already do, Heero. I'm yours."  
  
'I want you to have me . . .'  
  
Heero made a little noise that made Trowa quiver, and dove onto the other boy, kissing him desperately now, lips crushing lips, Heero's eager tongue tasting and exploring every crevice of Trowa's mouth. Insistent. Needy.  
  
_this time won't you please . . ._  
  
Their bodies were hot and flush against each other, the thick material of their flight suits only slightly hindering the glory of their friction. Trowa wrapped his arms around Heero, bringing his hands to stroke the boy's back, grasping eagerly and pressing up into him.  
  
_. . . drive faster_  
  
Heero gave another little moan, the sound of unfamiliar emotions, and the noise hitched in his throat. He scooped his hands beneath Trowa's back and pulled the boy over until they lay on their sides. He held Trowa close, squeezing him as if Trowa might turn to vapor and disappear if he failed to hold tight enough, then he buried his hot face in the soft flesh of Trowa's neck, and cried.  
  
'Just a boy.'  
  
Trowa held him as he shook and quivered. "It's okay . . . I'm here . . ." he prompted quietly, there was no turning back.  
  
They lay there for a little while, their passion cooling as Heero's turbulence calmed and his tears dried, each one a kind of harbor to the other. A strange flurry wuthered around the cab, whistling as it entered to soothe the two aching souls.  
  
_roll the windows down, this cool night air is curious_  
  
'What an odd breeze,' he noted as he held Heero tightly, ' . . . unnatural.' And as certainly as he'd decided the nature of the boy he held, he recognized the nature of that most disturbing of winds.  
  
Heero raised his head from the safety of Trowa's neck to stare into the vast blackness of the other boy's face. Trowa could feel the sudden alarm surging through him and Heero suddenly pulled away and moved toward the open passenger window to peek out and a beat later Trowa was beside him. They were both deathly silent, even as the wind began to make a noise of its own: the sounds of an approaching vehicle.  
  
The possibilities of the dangers were endless. Two gundam pilots on the side of the road, two gundams lying dormant and defenseless. They could be dead where they sat.  
  
Blindingly bright lights, lots of them, were descending upon them. A pale shower of dust was illuminated in their wake and their approach was swift and full of intent.  
  
"Oz," Heero growled, and started to jump to the driver's side again.  
  
"No, wait!" Trowa whispered urgently. And they did wait. And a moment later, the civilian mass transport unit was rumbling loudly past them, packed to the gills with refugees and the wounded.  
  
"My God . . ." Trowa uttered as he watched the eerily pale faces that peered sleepily from the interior of the bus-like vehicle.  
  
_let the whole world look in_  
  
Children and mothers, fathers and an occasional pet . . . they looked solemnly, blankly at the silent truck they passed, only a few noticing the the curious heads of the two young boys. peeking from behind a misty window.  
  
_who cares who sees anything_  
  
It's passing was quick and threw a great gust of wind into the cabin, but somehow it seemed that Trowa could see every face clearly, every moustache, and spectacle, every frown and tear, and he ached for them all. But more than that . . . he was glad he was not among them.  
  
Heero had turned from the sight and was sitting in the wide expanse of the floor board, his face invisible, but surely Trowa thought, melancholy.  
  
Trowa bent wordlessly, and cradled Heero's head in his arms, pulling him against his chest.  
  
_i'm your passenger_  
  
Heero's eyes were dry now, the few tears he had to spare having already been shed. Still, Trowa's presence was a comfort and he reached a hand to the back of Trowa's head as the boy bent over him. He turned. They kissed.  
  
"Have me, Heero . . . please," Trowa said after they had parted.  
  
_I'm your passenger_  
  
"Trowa . . ." Heero breathed as he turned and rose to push Trowa down onto the seat. Those faces, those people, they suddenly haunted him and he longed to replace the memory, to put something in its stead, anything to quicken the moment. " . . . Trowa."  
  
They were writhing again, Trowa held beneath Heero's eager movements and kisses, running his hands along the other boy's sides, fingers sliding easily over the slick material of the flight suit and catching momentarily on buckles or buttons.  
  
Heero pressed down into Trowa, wanting to be a part of him, be with him. It felt so good, so safe in those arms, and even as a night chill began to settle over the sleeping land, neither boy noticed. They generated their own warmth.  
  
Trowa's hands wandered to the zipper at Heero's mid chest, pushing it down to expose the flesh beneath. He pushed it to where it stopped just above the groin, and slipped a cool hand inside until Heero groaned against his mouth, wanting more than just a touch.  
  
"Take this off," Trowa said, removing his hand so that Heero could take action. The other boy didn't hesitate.  
  
_drop these down and put them on me_  
  
Trowa did the same, finding it only a little difficult to maneuver in the confined space, and a second later, they were together again. Heero straddled Trowa's hips, bending to kiss him more. He liked kissing, the intimacy of it. It was the closest he could come to devouring the other boy, and had he the capability, he would have eagerly done so.  
  
_nice cool seats_  
  
"You're hot." Trowa remarked after Heero had dipped his hips to the other boy's, rubbing their arousals together, " are you okay?"  
  
_there to cushion your knees_  
  
"I'm perfect."  
  
_now to calm me_  
  
The black world outside the cab of the truck was dimming. Their bodies fit so perfectly together. Heero seemed to like to kiss every inch of skin he could uncover and having the heavy body atop him was a comfort Trowa had never expected. He could now hear the faint hum of crickets even over his own stormy gasps. The world was still there, oh yes, it would not disappear for the happiness of two boys of little or no consequence to it survival. But, he imagined, as a lazy breeze drifted in, gliding over and between his and Heero's bodies, it would at least slow for a while.  
  
_take me around again_  
  
Heero was panting and sweating now, and so eager to have Trowa that he thrust lightly against the other boy, making them both gasp delicately. He wanted every part of Trowa, he wanted everything, but he was reluctant to pull his lips away, and even more unwilling to have the boy's hands off of him.  
  
_just don't pull over_  
  
Trowa sensed this and spread his legs so that Heero's body was between them, and raised his knees to offer himself.  
  
"Heero . . ."  
  
_this time would you please . . ._  
  
Heero groaned at the gesture, a little lump forming in his throat, new tears threatening to surface. He pulled away from Trowa, staring into the tiny pinpricks that were the catch-lights of the other boy's eyes. God! How wonderful he felt!  
  
"I could die now . . ." his words began, " . . . and never regret a moment."  
  
_. . . drive faster_  
  
Trowa hurt at those words. He ached. In his chest, in his throat, in his gut, and he knew he wouldn't be able to stop the silent tears. They ran hot from the corners of his eyes.  
  
Heero kissed him again, and Trowa could taste the salt of the other boy's tears. How foolish they were! Both crying when they should be at their happiest. But oh how he knew they needed it . . . each other.  
  
_roll the windows down this cool night air is curious_  
  
A howling wind suddenly kicked up and Trowa thought it odd for only a second before he felt Heero enter him, Heero's saliva making for a somewhat painful entry.  
  
_let the whole world look in_  
  
But the wind was forgotten moments later, even as it whipped through his hair, tangling it with Heero's;  
  
_who cares who sees what tonight_  
  
even as it shimmied through the spaces between their bodies, cooling and caressing as it went;  
  
_roll these misty windows down to catch my breath again_  
  
even as he sucked in great lungfuls of it, only to shout them out again as he trembled with release and felt Heero do the same inside him.  
  
_and then go and go and go just drive me home . . ._  
  
'He's not just a boy . . .'  
  
_. . . and then back again_  
  
'He's mine.'  
  
"I love you," Heero murmured sleepily as he slipped from inside Trowa and rolled onto his side to hold the boy close.  
  
_here i lay_  
  
"Mmm . . ." Trowa replied, knowing that Heero didn't need to hear the response.  
  
_just like always_  
  
"In four hours, we'll drive again," Heero said long moments later.  
  
_don't let me_  
  
"I'll drive . . ." Trowa whispered. The cabin was beyond silent now, even the outside had grown quiet. The crickets, the wind, they had stopped. Stillness could be so unsettling.  
  
He held Heero tight, and knowing the other boy was already asleep, blew an airy breath over his face, watching contentedly as Heero wrinkled his nose at the tickle of it.  
  
" . . . and we'll leave the windows down."  
  
_go take me to the edge_  
  
God . . . he wished they were still driving.  
  
end


End file.
